Love Will Find a Way

by Barbara Freethy

  "Too bad. You get one dance. Take it or leave it."

  She considered leaving it.

  "However, if you default on the bet, I win," he added. "You and me and the wild blue yonder."

  "Okay, I'll dance with you. But if you step on my foot, I'll kick you on the shin."

  And with that little bit of romance, she went into his arms.

  Chapter Sixteen

  In less than a minute Rachel felt like she'd always belonged in Dylan's arms. It was not supposed to feel this easy, this comfortable. It should have been awkward. Their legs should have bumped, their feet should have gotten tangled up. They should have kept some distance between them.

  Instead her hand crept up from his shoulder to the back of his neck, where her fingers played with the waves of his dark hair. In response, he drew her close against his heart, his chin brushing the top of her head as she breathed in the scent of him. He smelled like soap, like strong, manly soap with a touch of lavender. But it wasn't just his smell that undid her; it was his hand, the rough, callused palm that brushed her own fingers, making her very much aware of how hard he was and how soft she wanted to be.

  She thought she heard him sigh. Maybe the sound had come from her own throat. She felt like purring, like a contented cat that had just found the perfect spot to nestle into.

  The music swept through her, the lush words of romance a perfect accompaniment to the way their bodies were talking to each other. It was a good thing there were no words required. She couldn't have spoken even if she'd wanted to, and she didn't want to. She wanted to have this dance, this one dance, this one moment when everything felt good and right.

  Dylan's lips pressed against the top of her head. If she moved slightly, if she raised her head, she could kiss him the way she wanted to. She tried to resist the call, but a moment later hopelessly surrendered as want overrode reason. He was waiting for her.

  His mouth claimed hers, his dark lashes sweeping against his cheeks as he closed his eyes. It was the last thing she saw before she gave herself up to his kiss, a kiss that lasted to the end of the song, until the soft romantic harmony was replaced by the pounding beat of "Saturday Night Fever."

  Dylan drew away. His eyes glittered with desire, or was it something else? Rachel was afraid to read more. She took a step back. He did the same.

  "I'm not dancing to this one," he told her.

  "Neither am I."

  "Why don't we leave?" he suggested.

  "All right." Leaving was good. Cool, fresh air would be good, too.

  As she turned, she caught sight of her Aunt Shannon and her Uncle Harry standing behind the bar, watching her. Their expressions were solemn, worry lines creasing their faces as they stood together, a solid, protective unit.

  She picked up her purse from the table. Dylan put a hand on her back as they walked toward the bar. Pausing in front of her aunt and uncle, she felt very much like a child whose hand had been caught in the cookie jar. "Thanks for dinner," she said lightly, ignoring their somber expressions. "It was great."

  "How much do we owe you?" Dylan asked.

  "Nothing," Uncle Harry replied, his tone sharp. "Rachel doesn't pay for food. She's family."

  And Dylan was not. Rachel could hear the words as clearly as if Uncle Harry had spoken them out loud. Unfortunately, Dylan could hear them, too. She didn't want him to feel that he was the odd man out, that he was unacceptable. He'd already had too much of that kind of rejection in the past.

  "Well, I'd be happy to pay for mine," Dylan said.

  "No, no," Aunt Shannon said, putting a soothing hand on her husband's arm. "Why, you were Gary's best friend. You're practically family."

  "Didn't appear to be his best friend a minute ago," Harry remarked, obviously referring to their kiss.

  "That wasn't what it looked like," Rachel said quickly.

  "Yes, it was," Dylan said, contradicting her. "It was exactly what it looked like." He dared her to counter him, but the last thing she wanted to do was get into an argument over a kiss, especially here.

  "Dylan, would you mind bringing the car around front?" she asked.

  "So you can explain. Sure, why not?" He departed without a backward glance. In fact, she wondered if he'd actually bring the car around or leave her to find her own way home.

  "You don't have to explain, honey," Shannon said. "You're entitled to do whatever you like with whomever you like. You're not cheating on Gary."

  Her uncle snorted his disapproval. "Not right for a man's best friend to step in before his body is even cold."

  "It's not like that," she said. "And Dylan isn't stepping into anything. We're friends. He's helping me."

  "Kissing you is helping?" Harry grumbled.

  "We just worry about you, honey," Shannon murmured. "We don't want to see you get hurt."

  "It's too late for that. I've been hurt more than I could have ever imagined --but not by Dylan. He won't hurt me," she said, and as she left the restaurant she really hoped that was true.

  * * *

  He had to stop kissing Rachel, stop wanting her, stop liking her. Dylan pulled the car up in front of Shenanigans and waited for Rachel to appear. Her aunt and uncle had been less than thrilled to see their niece in the arms of another man and no doubt they were giving her all kinds of warnings right about now.

  She should probably listen; he should, too. It wasn't his style to get involved with married women. He'd always steered clear of that kind of entanglement … until now. Not that Rachel was technically married any more, but it hadn't been that long since Gary's death. And maybe he was betraying Gary. He felt sick at the thought and guilty, too. He just couldn't resist the pull he felt to Rachel. His attraction to her had never lessened, not with distance or marriage or death or even anger. It was always there. He couldn't beat it. Every time he saw her, he wanted her.

  Rachel got into the car and shut the door, sliding her seat belt on with a rapid, nervous movement. "We can go now. Sorry about that."

  "It's fine. They're worried about you."

  "Well, they don't have to worry about you."

  "Are you sure about that?" He glanced over at her and saw the telltale blush spread across her cheeks.

  "Don't look at me like that."

  "Like what?"

  "Like I'm your favorite ice cream on a cone."

  "I think you might be. I'd need another taste to be sure."

  "What are we doing, Dylan?" She turned slightly in her seat so she could face him. "Do you know?"

  "No. Do you?"

  "We've always had a connection. It was there from the very beginning."

  He nodded. "I'm surprised you admit that."

  "We were good friends, Dylan. Those months before Gary and I got married, it was always the three of us. We had fun together. I liked you – more than I wanted to."

  "I felt the same way."

  "You're the only one who knows that I had any doubts about marrying Gary. I never told anyone else."

  "I never did either, Rachel. Do you really want to go back there?"

  She let out a breath, staring at him with darkening eyes. "I think we have to. When you kissed me at the rehearsal dinner, I was terrified that I was marrying the wrong man. You made me feel things that I didn't understand. But you were complicated and private, and I never knew what you were thinking. Gary was simple, straightforward. It wasn't hard for him to show me how he felt, to tell me he loved me. I had no idea what you really thought about me until you kissed me that night."

  "I was trying to stay away from you," he muttered.

  "I think I was trying to do the same." She drew in a breath. "But after that night, after I said my vows, I didn't look back, Dylan. I committed myself to Gary, and I loved him with all of my heart. The doubts that I had in the beginning were put to rest by our years together. We had a child. We lived through sickness and health and all the rest, and I have never regretted marrying him, not for one minute. I don't know now if he had regrets, but I didn't. And
I want to be clear about that."

  "Believe me you're very clear," he said, her words honest but painful.

  "I'm sorry if I'm hurting you."

  "You're telling the truth. And nothing you're saying surprises me. I knew the two of you were happy together; that's why I stayed away. I didn't want to mess anything up – not that I could have, but it was easier just to keep my distance. I regretted that kiss. I betrayed my best friend. It never should have happened."

  "It was just a kiss."

  "More than that," he said. "But it was a long time ago. And as you said, you and Gary had a good life together, so no point in thinking about one moment in time from a decade ago."

  "I just wanted to clear the air."

  "It's cleared. Listen, Rachel, you and Wesley gave Gary the family he always wanted. It was a tremendous gift. Don't ever doubt that."

  "Thanks." She paused. "So what about you? Why didn't you ever marry?"

  He stiffened. "There's still time."

  "You wanted a family as much as Gary did, but you didn't go after one."

  He shrugged. "Someday I will. I've been busy with work."

  "And there hasn't been someone in your life?"

  "There have been a lot of someones, just no one I wanted to marry. Actually, I was engaged a few years back, but it didn't last."

  Surprise flashed in her eyes. "Gary never told me that. What happened?"

  "We just figured out it wasn't right."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be sorry. A woman would have slowed me down. I've gotten to the top of my game by working night and day."

  "Building a career, but not a family. It sounds lonely."

  She didn't know the half of it, but then, she never would. "It's been profitable," he said lightly. "I've been very successful."

  "What was her name, the woman you almost married?"

  "You don't want to know that."

  "Yes, I do."

  "Sheila."

  "Sheila." She rolled the name around on her tongue. "She sounds sophisticated, a good dresser, very stylish, a career woman. Am I right?"

  He didn't appreciate her accuracy. "She's an attorney."

  "And very beautiful, I'll bet."

  He nodded. "Stunning."

  "So come on, tell me what happened."

  He hesitated. "Fine, she didn't want children, a fact she neglected to mention until after we were engaged. She assumed that I felt the same way, that with our lifestyles of work and travel, a child would be impractical."

  "Children are always impractical, but they're wonderful. They change your life in ways you could never imagine. You should have children. You'd be a wonderful father."

  "I would like to have kids," he admitted. He hadn't known how much until Sheila had told him she didn't want any. It was then he realized how wrong their relationship was. He'd felt that it was time to marry, to have children, to make a family, and he'd figured she'd probably want all that, too. And why not marry a beautiful woman with whom the sex was all right? It wasn't like he was ever going to have that head-over-heels, stomach-churning kind of love anyway. That woman was gone, out of reach … until now.

  The thought came unbidden into his mind and refused to leave. Maybe he could have Rachel now. God! The same guilt that Rachel had spoken of earlier swept through him. How could he be happy at Gary's expense?

  "Dylan?" Rachel interrupted his train of thought. "Do you want to take me home now?"

  He wanted to take her back to his hotel room and make love to her. But he'd shock the hell out of her if he said that.

  "Sure," he said instead, putting the car into drive. "I'll take you home."

  Rachel didn't say anything on the way home. It wasn't until he pulled into her driveway that she turned to him. "I had a good time tonight. It was fun to play darts with you. You're a serious competitor."

  "So are you. Rachel ..." He hesitated. She'd say no. He knew it. So why was he bothering to ask?

  "What?"

  "Tomorrow is Sunday. The weather is supposed to be clear and warm, a perfect day for flying."

  "You didn't win the bet, so I don't have to."

  "Will you at least think about it?"

  "Why? Why do you keep asking me? Why does it matter to you?"

  Why did he keep asking her? He just felt a compelling need to show her a world she'd never seen before. He hated the way she limited herself. She didn't know what she was missing. "I want to share it with you," he said. "I want you to see the world, your world, from another perspective. We can take Wesley with us."

  "I'm busy."

  "It will take an hour, tops."

  She let out a sigh. "Oh, Dylan, you do tempt me, and not just to fly with you."

  He smiled. "Then say yes."

  "No."

  "Yes."

  "Maybe."

  "Yes," he persisted.

  "Okay, all right, yes. But I'm probably going to hang on for dear life the whole time or, worse yet, throw up all over you."

  "I'll take my chances. What time?"

  "I don't know -- early? I have some tour groups to deal with in the afternoon. Don't we need a reservation or something?"

  "I think I can find a plane for us to use."

  "Any plane? I want it to be safe, especially if we're taking Wesley. Oh, dear, I don't know if I should do this. Flying is dangerous."

  "Life is dangerous, Rachel. But I promise I'll do everything I can to keep you safe. Now, don't think about it anymore. I'll pick you up at eight o'clock tomorrow morning."

  "Am I going to regret it?" she asked.

  "You won't regret going up in a plane with me, and I know I won't regret this." He leaned over and covered her mouth in a long, deep kiss.

  * * *

  "How fast are we going to go? How high? Are we going to flip over and fly upside down?" Wesley asked excitedly, the questions streaming out of his mouth one after the other.

  "Whoa," Dylan said with a laugh as he swung Wesley up into his arms. "We'll go fast and high --"

  "But we are definitely not flying upside down," Rachel finished.

  He smiled at her as she nervously fidgeted with the necklace around her neck. She looked pretty as a picture this morning in a short floral skirt and sleeveless blouse. He just wished the expression on her face was relaxed instead of tense. Maybe he was wrong to push her into this. But he knew she would love it. And he wanted to give her this flight, this moment, this experience that Gary had never given her.

  Was that what this was all about? A chance to give her something Gary hadn't?

  He refused to go there. He didn't want this day to be about Gary. Maybe that was selfish or wrong, but that's the way it was.

  "What do we do now?" Rachel asked.

  "We get in."

  "Are you sure we're ready? Did you check everything?"

  "Three times. And I went over every inch of the plane, including the maintenance done over the past year."

  "Maintenance? What kind of maintenance?"

  "The kind that keeps the plane in the air."

  "Mommy is scared," Wesley told him.

  "I'm not scared; I'm just concerned. It's good to be concerned," she replied.

  "Flying is very safe, Mom," Wesley said as Dylan put him back on the ground. "Did you know that you have a greater chance of being hit by lightning than crashing in an airplane?"

  She shook her head in amazement. "Where do you learn this stuff?"

  Dylan helped Wesley into the plane, then turned to Rachel. "If you don't want to do this, it's okay. I want it to be your decision."

  "It would be easier if you picked me up and threw me in."

  "Not my style."

  "I know. You want me to make courageous decisions all by myself. All right, then. I'll do it. I'll go."

  "This isn't a root canal. It will be fun."

  She forced a smile onto her face. "Fun. I can't wait."

  He laughed and helped her into the plane. When they were ready to go, he glanced over
and saw her gripping the armrest so tightly her knuckles had turned white. "I never really thought the expression white-knuckled flier was true."

  "Just do what you have to do to get this thing in the air," she said. "Before I lose my nerve."

  "Go really fast, Dylan," Wesley encouraged from the backseat.

  "Don't go too fast," Rachel said.

  Dylan shook his head and turned his attention to the flight plan. He hoped by the end of the trip they'd both be satisfied.

  * * *

  They were going up. They were really doing it. Rachel felt every muscle in her body tense as the plane gathered more and more speed. She felt every bump on the runaway, winced at every jolt, heard every tiny ping in the plane.

  Her nerves screamed that this was wrong, humans were not meant to go this fast. But before she could tell Dylan to put on the brakes, they were up, off the ground, airborne.

  The land below fell away in a dizzying fashion. Rachel couldn't believe the sight unfolding before her. The airport below vanished, giving way to hills and fields, long, winding roads and cars that looked like ants.

  "Wow," Wesley said, and it seemed to be the only word appropriate for the experience they were having.

  She felt Dylan's gaze on her and turned her head. "Wow," she echoed with a smile.

  He smiled back at her. "You haven't seen nothing yet. I'm going to make your head spin."

  "It already is. This is incredible."

  "Want to see your apple farm?"

  "Can we?"

  "Oh, yeah." He turned the plane slightly toward the left. "In about five minutes."

  * * *

  The hour passed far too quickly as Dylan pointed out familiar sights below, far below. And while Rachel eagerly strained to catch a glimpse of her apple farm, her cozy green hills and her beautiful valley, she found her gaze drifting to the horizon, wondering what was over the next hill and the next.

  What if they kept flying? What else would they discover? What beauty would they see? She'd never thought she needed to cross the next bridge or go over the far hill. She had what she wanted, all she wanted. Now she wasn't as sure.

  Dylan landed the plane much too soon. Neither Rachel nor Wesley had had nearly enough, which Wesley told Dylan in no uncertain terms as they got off the plane.